


Patient Zero

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Emetophobia, Fluff, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1769929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AHOT6 Prompt: A nasty case of food poisoning leaves Michael dehydrated and weak; the boys take care of him. The worse he is, the better!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patient Zero

**Author's Note:**

> Although it isn't exactly food poisoning, I did enjoy writing it. Thanks to whoever sent in this request to me!

The cold tiles of the bathroom floor were heaven, and the small thick rug thrown in front of the shower had become his favorite pillow. Especially since Michael hadn’t been able to leave the bathroom all night. Even now, as god-knows-how-early in the morning, Michael was curled up weakly on the bathroom floor, too afraid to even leave the side of the toilet just in case. His stomach churned violently and he sat up abruptly, retching and heaving into the toilet, hands gripping the sides so tight that his knuckles turned white.

When he finally stopped, he remained there, hunched over the toilet bowl, coughing. Shakily, he pushed himself up and made his way over to the sink to rinse out his mouth.

There was a knock on the door, and he froze.

“Hey, who’s in there?” It was Geoff’s voice, at once both tired and worried. “Are you alright in there?”

Damn, he hadn’t wanted to wake up any of the others. That had been exactly what he was trying to avoid. He knew that they’d be worried if they knew he was sick, and they’d stay up all night with him. There was no reason for it really; Michael had been sick plenty of times before and he could vomit on his own. Granted, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this bad, but he’d be fine. He didn’t need help; he could do it on his own.

“It’s me,” he called out, voice raspy. He paused to clear it before continuing, a tremor in his voice despite his best efforts to disguise it. “Yeah, I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

There was a brief silence. Geoff didn’t believe him—Michael could feel it even before the older man responded. And sure enough, he replied, “Bullshit. Come on, Michael, open the door.” The doorknob jiggled as he tried to open the door, only to find it locked.

Michael groaned. “Oh come on, Geoff,” he protested, but he knew that whatever he said wouldn’t matter. Geoff was as stubborn as a bull, and wouldn’t budge an inch until the younger man complied with the demand. “Fine, hold on just a sec.”

He looked from the door to the mirror. Christ, he looked horrible. His skin was horribly pallid, pasty and curly hair plastered over his forehead with sweat. Already dark bags were forming under his eyes: a testament to how little sleep he had gotten that night. There was no way he’d be able to fake being healthy. Anyone would be able to tell right from looking at him that he was very sick. Damn it all.

Pushing off from the counter, he wobbled a bit as he turned to face the door. He took one step before the bathroom suddenly stretched out before him, the door much farther away than he remembered. Michael blinked several times, taking one more step. Disoriented, he reached out for a doorknob that should be right there, but wasn’t.

Then, all at once the door snapped back at him just as Michael stumbled forward. Shit, he mouthed, but no sound came out before he slammed against the door. He bounced back, his legs crumpling under him.

“Michael? What happened, are you alright?” Geoff’s voice was louder now, more insistent, yet at the same time it sounded far off.

He wanted to reply, call back to Geoff that he was fine, that he just fell over like an idiot, but he couldn’t get his jaw to work enough to open his mouth. The room spun in a sickening way and Michael felt that he might vomit again.

“Michael, hey!” There was a loud banging as Geoff slammed on the door with an open palm. It rang in his ears and he groaned weakly, wanting to tell him to shut up but not able to.

Then suddenly silence. Oh that was bliss.

Lying there on the hard bathroom floor, Michael’s eyes fluttered closed. Although his stomach still churned and his head throbbed angrily, he thought he might be able to fall asleep. It was more comfortable than he had been all night at the very least. He zeroed in on his breathing, in-two-three-four, out-two-three-four, in…

Click.

The lock popped open, rousing Michael from an uneasy doze. Letting out a moan, he stirred, squeezing his eyes shut as he forced himself into an upright position. He was fine; he could deal with sickness alright by himself.

As those thoughts ran through his mind, the door opened. His body stopped it from opening any more than the slightest bit, not even enough for the thinnest body to squeeze through. Michael leaned against it, mostly because it was a support and his body was worn down. An arm came through the gap, running through his sweat-dampened hair, resting against his forehead.

“Christ, he’s burning up.” It wasn’t Geoff this time, but Jack.

“Of course he is, he’s sick!” They must have woken up Gavin with all the commotion, because his high-pitched voice grated on Michael’s ears, like pulling a metal wire through his brain. He gritted his teeth. “Hurry and open the bloody door!”

“I can’t, he’s in the way,” Jack snapped, sounding annoyed with Gavin’s badgering.

“Hey baby.” It was Geoff again, voice gentle and soothing on Michael’s ears. “Come on and move so we can come in.”

Michael opened his mouth, not exactly sure what he was going to say or if he was even going to protest. Before he could form a word, his stomach lurched, and with it Michael lurched into motion. He practically fell over the toilet as he heaved again.

The door swung open. For all his good intents, Gavin’s face screwed up at the sight, sound, and smell of vomit. Gagging, Gavin rushed out of the room, and if Michael wasn’t too busy with his own issue then he might have wondered whether he was going to be sick as well, just from seeing Michael.

Gentle hands rubbed at his back as he finished, reaching up to brush the hair away from his forehead. He sat back, and this time found arms there to support him. Earlier he was ready to fight them, but at the moment he felt so weak that he just relaxed into them.

“Want to go get some water for him, Geoff?” Jack asked.

Geoff murmured something in affirmation and left the room. Jack got to his feet, gingerly picking up Michael. The younger man huffed, half-heartedly shoving at Jack’s chest. “You don’t have to carry me. I can walk,” he protested. His voice was stronger now, but speaking made him feel like vomiting again.

Jack made a noise that was somewhere between amusement, disbelief, and concern. “Michael, Geoff woke me up saying that you collapsed while locked in the bathroom and throwing up your guts, let me carry you,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to Michael’s forehead.

Michael frowned, considering putting up a bigger fight, hands still resting uncertainly against Jack’s chest. It was more trouble than it was worth, he decided, and instead of pushing more at Jack in protest, he lightly gripped onto his shirt and dropped his head to rest against Jack’s shoulder. The Gent hummed in approval of his choice, turning his head to nuzzle the top of his head before he carefully laid Michael on top of the bed.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Ray asked from the doorway, rubbing at his eyes. Ryan stood behind him, leaning against the doorframe with an eyebrow raised, flicking his eyes toward Michael laying in the bed, looking back to Jack with a questioning look.

The bed dipped as Jack sat on its edge. He stroked Michael’s head, running comforting fingers through the younger man’s hair. “Can one of you guys get a bucket or something? Michael’s sick? And go check on Gavin?”

Ryan nodded. “Sure, I got you,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and turning to go. “Oh morning Geoff,” he added to the Gent as he passed through with a tall glass of water.

“Hey Ryebread. Here you go, Michael. Need anything else, baby?” Geoff asked, setting the water down on the bedside table.

Michael coughed. “You guys don’t have to take care of me. I’m just a little sick.” He turned his head as he felt the bed dip on the other side, this time Ray crawling onto it. The other lay down beside him. “I’ll get you guys sick,” he warned.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ray’s hand lay right beside Michael’s shoulder, not quite touching him, but the proximity was enough. “Besides, if you get us sick, then that just means we get to skip work,” he added, joking.

The flippant statement made Michael grin. He gave a weak, playful punch at Ray’s shoulder. “Don’t use me to be a lazy shit,” he said, though there was no real malice to his words, and Ray grinned at him.

Jack’s fingers continued their work through his hair. Although he wouldn’t readily admit it, Michael was happy to have someone stroking his head. It was reassuring, and distracted him from the rolling of his stomach. “Let us take care of you, honey,” he murmured as he continued with his ministrations.

Michael let out a little sigh of contentment, reaching to take a sip from the glass of water. Replacing it on the table, he sunk back into the pillows, letting his eyelids slide shut. “Alright. You guys win,” he relented. He was too exhausted from his night of being sick to argue much more. As much as he hated to be dependent on anyone, it was nice to let go and be spoiled a bit. Just for now, while he was sick. Just this once.

He managed to drift off to sleep with murmurs of ‘I love you’ in his ears.


End file.
